My Sister's Husband

by Marsh, Nicola

  Lizzie nods. “You two started dating when? Around seventeen?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I didn’t notice it at first, but every time he came around Freya would make a point to be there, never leaving you alone. She hung on his every word and lit up when he so much as greeted her.”

  Considering how much I adored Eli I would’ve barely noticed if Freya danced naked in front of him. He’d been the center of my world for a year, until I ruined everything.

  “I didn’t know.”

  The concern pinching Lizzie’s mouth softens. “I didn’t think you did, you were smitten with him.”

  “He was the best,” I murmur, my chest aching over how much I hurt him, how I drove him to do something so horrific.

  Eli hadn’t been like other guys. He didn’t care about being cool in front of the boys. He didn’t jostle and boast and try to outdo the jocks. He wanted to be with me and would spend all his free time hanging out wherever I chose: the library, the park, the beach. He didn’t muck around in class and valued his grades as much as I did. And while he loved making out as much as I did, he never pushed me to take the next step until I was ready. He respected me, had made me feel special in a way I haven’t had since, and I hate that my revelation pushed him to end his life.

  “Eli was one of the good guys,” Lizzie says. “Did he know about Freya’s crush?”

  “If he did he never said anything to me.”

  Lizzie’s pensive, staring at the ocean. “I remember how awful it was the day after his suicide, how distraught you were.”

  I don’t want to remember. I’ve quashed the memory of that devastating day because I never want to relive that kind of pain, ever. For too long afterward, every time I closed my eyes I could see the exact moment my world fell apart in excruciating detail.

  Eli’s father on our doorstep, eyes bloodshot, wearing a flannel shirt, dress pants and white sneakers. His odd mismatched outfit and swollen eyes hadn’t alerted me to something being wrong as much as his expression.

  He looked like his world had been ripped apart.

  Aunt Alice had answered the door the morning after I broke up with Eli. When I saw Roger, his dad, I hovered in the background, unseen, listening in. So I heard the words that tore my heart in two.

  “Eli’s dead.”

  I’d staggered, clutching at the wall, as Eli’s dad continued, “I came to tell you in person because I didn’t want Brooke finding out any other way. Can you tell her for me?”

  Aunt Alice had said, “Oh my God, Roger, I’m so sorry…” and stepped forward, her arms outstretched, but he’d backed away.

  “I can’t do this right now. But I wanted you to know before the police come to ask Brooke questions…” His face crumpled and tears welled in his eyes. “I have no idea why my beautiful boy jumped to his death but when we’re over the shock it would be good if we can talk to Brooke, find out what she knows.”

  “Of course.” Aunt Alice nodded, while I struggled to breathe, my lungs constricting with the knowledge of why Eli had jumped and my overwhelming grief that I’m responsible for my boyfriend’s death.

  “I will never, ever, understand this.” Roger had tears streaming down his face as he turned and stumbled back toward his car.

  That moment is the reason why I never returned to Martino Bay after I fled. I could’ve dealt with the innuendo, the finger-pointing, but having to face Eli’s parents knowing what I’d done… his parents had lost him so my family had lost me. I didn’t deserve their comfort. I didn’t deserve happiness. And the only reason why I’ve finally come home is because Aunt Alice needs my support in the same way she’d once supported me.

  “I also remember Freya’s reaction to Eli’s suicide…” Lizzie turns to look at me. “I’ve never seen anyone fall apart like that, like someone had carved out her heart. At first I thought it was because you were in so much pain, but it was more than that. I think she genuinely liked him and losing him gutted her as much as it did you.”

  I’m stunned by Lizzie’s revelations. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

  She shrugs. “What’s the point? Your grief was overwhelming and I wanted to support you as best I could. Learning Freya was as devastated would’ve made things worse and served no purpose.”

  “So why are you telling me now?”

  She jerks a thumb over her shoulder. “Because from what I just saw, Freya hasn’t changed a bit and it’s probably wise to tread carefully around her.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Lizzie takes hold of my hands and they’re as freezing as mine. “Because I see a hint of something on your face every time Riker enters a room, like you’re hiding something, and if Freya reacted badly to hearing I’m a sibling, I’d hate to think how she’ll freak if she discovers whatever secrets you’re concealing.”

  Forty-One

  Alice

  THEN

  Freya keeps her promise to me for six years.

  She doesn’t hurt Brooke and she doesn’t touch her sister’s belongings again. Brooke is generous with her sister, offering to lend her clothes and make-up, and I see Freya come alive under her sister’s attention. I’m relieved, because the closer the girls are, the less likelihood Freya will revert to the all-consuming jealousy of that awful day when she destroyed Brooke’s favorite possession. Brooke includes Freya in her busy social life too and they’re closer than I could’ve hoped for. Maybe Freya has her sibling envy under control?

  Then Brooke brings Eli home.

  I’m cooking dinner, the kitchen warm from the oven and filled with the tantalizing aromas of roasted tomatoes, onions and garlic from the homemade pizzas that the girls love, when the back door opens.

  “Hey, Aunt Alice, I’d like you to meet someone.” Brooke steps inside, holding hands with a striking young man she’s already told me about. “This is Eli.”

  I like that Eli looks me straight in the eye; I can’t abide kids who appear shifty. And his smile is instant, warm, genuine, whereas some young men can be awkward meeting their girlfriend’s parents.

  “Pleased to meet you, Eli.” I dust flour off my hands and hold one out.

  “Likewise, Miss Shomack.” He shakes my hand with a firm grip I respect. “Brooke talks about you a lot.”

  “Please, call me Alice. You’re staying for dinner?”

  “I’d love to, thanks,” he says, his impeccable manners as impressive as the rest of him.

  He’s tall, about six feet, with dark curly hair and chocolate-brown eyes. Brooke showed me a photo of him on her cell but he’s more remarkable in person. More than his looks and his manners, it’s his open expression I admire, like he’s got nothing to hide. For someone living with secrets every day of my life, that’s a quality I’m envious of. I’m happy for Brooke. He’s the first boy she’s ever brought home and he’s lovely. They make a stunning couple.

  “Why don’t you two lay the table while I finish off this last pizza?” I point at the toppings laid out on individual plates. “Are you happy with all these, Eli, or do you have allergies?”

  “No allergies, but I’d prefer no peppers on mine, please.”

  “Sure,” I say, pushing that plate aside. “One pepperoni, tomato, mushroom, onion and garlic combo coming up.”

  I snap my fingers and Brooke groans. “Please ignore my aunt, she’s putting on a show for you.”

  He laughs, revealing straight white teeth that are as perfect as the rest of him. Freya enters the kitchen at that moment and the atmosphere instantly changes. It’s like a cloud has passed over the sun and my skin pebbles.

  “Oh, it’s you two,” Freya says, as she crosses the kitchen toward me. “Need a hand, Aunt Alice?”

  Her dismissive greeting of Eli and Brooke and her sour expression captures my attention. Usually she’s better at hiding her jealousy of her sister, and while Brooke rarely notices Freya’s subtle animosity, that greeting seems overt even for her.

  “No, I’m good.” I lay a comforting
hand on Freya’s arm, trying to convey I understand but she needs to cool it. “Why don’t you help Brooke and Eli set the table?”

  “I’m sure they’ve got it covered.” She shrugs off my hand and studiously avoids looking their way. “I’ll get the drinks sorted.”

  She’s already heading for the fridge, her gait stiff and stilted, like she’s uncomfortable and trying to hide it.

  “Thanks,” I say, seeing Brooke roll her eyes at Eli over Freya’s shoulder.

  Brooke told me they’ve been dating for about a month already, Freya’s met him, and everybody’s happy for her.

  As I catch Freya’s sulky pout, maybe not everybody.

  “I’ll have sparkling water and Eli will have a lemon soda, please, Freya,” Brooke says, gazing up at Eli with the adoration only a teen girl can muster. “We’ll get started on setting the table.”

  Only I hear Freya’s muttered, “Whatever” as her hand grips the fridge door so tight her knuckles appear white through the skin. Her back is rigid, the muscles in her neck standing out with tension.

  But her recalcitrance doesn’t bother me as much as the look she casts at Eli’s retreating back as he heads for the dining room, holding Brooke’s hand.

  It’s proprietary, covetous, and the same way Freya had once looked at Brooke’s gaudy pink jacket.

  Before she slashed it to pieces.

  Forty-Two

  Freya

  I have to apologize to Brooke and Lizzie. They obviously give me time to calm down because it’s thirty minutes before they come back to the house. I’m waiting for them in the backyard, with homemade lemonade and an upside-down pineapple cake I’d been saving for supper.

  They eye me suspiciously as they approach, as if they expect me to upend the cake on their heads and fling the lemonade in their faces. I don’t blame them.

  “A peace offering,” I say, holding my palms up over the table. “The least I can do after flipping out. I reacted badly earlier and I apologize for everything I said. Neither of you will understand this, but I sometimes felt hideous growing up next to you two. You were beautiful and I was the plain baby of the family. And you were close, so I felt left out…” I shrug. “I guess I let my old jealousy flare.”

  Lizzie’s the first to move forward and take a seat at the table opposite me. “Shock makes us do crazy things sometimes.” She points at the cake. “Considering this is my favorite, you’re forgiven.”

  Brooke is more circumspect, approaching the table cautiously before sitting next to me, staring so intently I struggle not to squirm. She has this odd expression on her face, like she’s seeing me for the first time, and I don’t like it.

  An awkward silence descends and I know I have to say something to show them I’m okay now. “How do you feel about everything, Lizzie? I mean, you just found out your mom is actually your aunt?”

  I glimpse a flicker of pain in Lizzie’s eyes before she blinks. “Honestly? I was mad when Brooke first told me but I’m calmer now. Alice mothered us all in the same way. She always did what was best for us and she raised us right, like any mother would. What does it matter if a DNA test says otherwise?”

  I’m impressed by Lizzie’s magnanimity. If I found out my mother had lied to me all these years, I’d want to throttle her. “So you’ve done one?”

  Lizzie and Brooke share a conspiratorial glance that makes me feel left out again. “Yeah, once I heard the truth from Amy, Mom’s friend in Verdant, and we couldn’t find Lizzie’s birth certificate, we got an expedited DNA test done and it confirmed it. But Lizzie’s right, Aunt Alice loved us equally and has been a great mom. And the fact we’re all sisters? Mind-blowing but great.”

  “It is mind-blowing.” I nod. “We’ve always been sisters in a way and this confirms it.”

  Lizzie’s blinking back tears and Brooke’s wary expression softens.

  “Let’s have some cake,” I say, before we dissolve into tears. I’m ashamed of my earlier outburst, of allowing my latent jealousy to get the better of me, and I want to make amends.

  Lizzie smiles at me, but Brooke is still giving me side-eye. She’s slower to forgive, considering the harsh things I said, and I don’t blame her. If she’d told me “It’s bad enough having one sister” I would’ve been pretty pissed off too.

  As Lizzie cuts the cake, I lean closer to Brooke and give her a gentle nudge. “You know I didn’t mean that stuff I said, right? You’ve been a great sister. I was just shocked.” She glances at me and I see she’s still hurting.

  “I never made you feel inferior.”

  I sigh, unwilling to have this conversation but needing to give her something for us to move on. “Not intentionally, but you were so perfect, with your grades and your friends and your popularity, I couldn’t help but feel second best.”

  “But that’s on you,” she says, accusatory, and I bite back my annoyance.

  “It is, and that’s why I’m apologizing for my crazy outburst before.”

  She eyeballs me for several seconds before finally nodding. “Okay. But Lizzie’s the one we should be focusing on now. She’s taken the news exceptionally well but she must be freaking out on the inside.”

  “I’m right here, ladies.” Lizzie waves and we smile.

  “You’re seriously okay?” I ask.

  “I am. As long as you two are.” Lizzie’s gaze swings between us like she’s watching a riveting tennis final and I’m struck anew by the likeness between her and Brooke. I put it down to them being cousins but now I know they’re sisters the similarities are more pronounced. The same slight uptilt at the end of their noses, the same tiny green flecks in their blue eyes, the same shape of their earlobes.

  How many hours did I waste staring into the mirror growing up, wishing my brown eyes were blue, hoping my dull brown hair would lighten to blonde if I spent enough time in the sun? Countless, and I never expected to feel like the ugly stepsister all these years later.

  “I’m okay,” Brooke says.

  “I am too.” If I inject enough sincerity into my voice they’ll believe me. They have in the past.

  My candor garners a breakthrough when Brooke reaches out and lays a hand over mine where it rests in my lap. “I didn’t know you felt that way. Apology accepted.”

  Lizzie smirks and points to the cake again. “Like I said, you had my forgiveness with this.”

  She breaks the ice and we chuckle. I serve cake and pour lemonade and this time the silence between us is comfortable.

  I pick up my glass and raise it. “To the Stuart sisters.”

  Brooke and Lizzie echo my toast and as we clink glasses I know I’ll have to be more careful in future.

  Forty-Three

  Brooke

  Lizzie’s warning regarding Freya has kept me up the last few nights. I would’ve dismissed it as meaning nothing if I hadn’t seen her reaction to Lizzie being our sibling firsthand.

  She’d looked like a different person standing on that cliff, someone I didn’t recognize. Lizzie is right. I need to be extra careful to keep my link to Riker secret from Freya. Has he seen that side to her? Or worse, has Hope? Freya’s been nothing but a doting, loving mother whenever I’ve seen them interact but who knows what’s gone on the last decade?

  If only I could ask Aunt Alice. She always looked out for me growing up and I trust her. Then again, I don’t need to ask her anything. With Hope living under the same roof, she would’ve cared for her great-niece the same.

  I’d never tell Freya this but I missed Aunt Alice the most when I left. My aunt always exuded calmness. She never rushed headlong into a decision; she weighed up the pros and cons, then made an informed choice. I wonder how she felt, having to adopt the three of us after our parents died. She wouldn’t have had much time to consider that decision; it would’ve been thrust upon her and I love her all the more for taking on what must’ve been a massive responsibility at her age.

  It also makes me think about my mom and how she gave up Lizzie. Considering I was pr
epared to do the same thing if my baby boy hadn’t died, I can empathize. Had my mom felt the same emptiness I had, the same desperation to forget the past? Had she wanted to make a fresh start away from the town she grew up in? Had she felt like her heart had ripped in two when she saw the nurse take her baby away?

  Aunt Alice finding Lizzie and reuniting her with us is something I’ll be thankful for every day. It’s been five days since we learned the truth about Lizzie and have finally unearthed a birth certificate via the adoption agency. We’ve also discovered how Alice got custody of Lizzie, after her adoptive parents ended up in a domestic violence situation and Child Protective Services took over.

  The timing is strange though. Alice didn’t take custody of Lizzie until after my parents died, yet CPS would’ve contacted them earlier. Yet another reason to gain access to Aunt Alice’s online diary. Both Lizzie and I have tried various combinations but nothing works. Looks like we were right about CS being Cameron Stuart and the 3 obviously meant three girls.

  Lizzie is still calling Aunt Alice mom because she doesn’t want to confuse her any more than she already is, but I see the way she looks at her now. She’s wary, disappointed at being lied to for so many years. It doesn’t make sense why Aunt Alice would lie to us all. Did she want a child of her own so badly she claimed one of Diana and Cameron’s as hers? Did she want to protect Lizzie from knowing she’d been adopted out? That seems the most likely scenario but why not come clean now we’re all in our late twenties?

  Freya isn’t interested in discussing this; Lizzie and I have tried. She treats Lizzie the same and shows no interest in getting to the bottom of why Aunt Alice perpetuated the lie. That leaves only one person left to talk to who knew Aunt Alice before she started losing her mind: Riker. Lizzie mentioned Aunt Alice would spend time in his workshop every day. They shared a love of strong espresso and when Freya went to work, Aunt Alice would take him a coffee and they’d spend an hour chatting.